Flipping the Penny
by KissTheBoy7
Summary: Following the death of Collins, Mimi begins to wonder how Mark is going to stand being the last one left. A brief conversation with him clears some things up. Mark/Mimi friendship and optimism. Oneshot.


**A/N: I'm just full of oneshots lately. I guess it's because I just finished a pretty long chaptered fic recently- but let's not let me ramble, eh? Here's a little Mimi/Mark friendship piece that I had running around in my head for a while. Enjoy!**

Disclaimer: RENT no mine. Mimi no mine. Mark no mine. Comprende?

**Flipping the Penny**

Mimi can't help feeling bad for Mark.

She knows that he would never accept her pity- no one wants pity, especially from some AIDS-ridden stripper with a drug addiction, but in her mind Mark's situation seems so much worse than her own. First April, then Angel and, most recently, Collins. Mark was going to have to watch every one of the people he loved march in a single file line towards the light while he stayed behind in the shadows, watching through the lens of his camera.

Maybe Mimi knew that she was going to die, but Mark was the one that would miss her when she was gone.

Still, she had to treat him like any normal person. The Jewish man was remarkably nonchalant. On the day of the funeral, of course, he might seem upset- but the next day? Three times over he'd offered those same shy smiles, perfectly fine. As though nothing catastrophic had happened.

How did he do it?

Mimi herself was a mess whenever someone died. There was the runny mascara and snot dripping from her nose, those horrible sobs wracking her twig-like body. She didn't imagine she could ever be quite as composed as Mark was about it all, not ever.

So when she found herself walking beside the filmmaker as they headed to CBGB's for Roger's first gig with the new band, she couldn't restrain herself. Collins grave was still fresh and Benny was still in town working out the financial aspects of the funeral, but Mark didn't seem to care at all. He hummed under his breath as they walked, camera pointed at the other side of the street, hoping to catch some clips of people in their natural personas rather than the ones they liked to be shown on film. Yesterday he'd locked himself in his room for hours, responding only to Roger and emerging only for bathroom breaks. How could he regain his composure just like that?

"Mark?" she asked nervously. He looked up from his camera, eyebrows raised, and she swallowed before continuing. "Uh- how- how are you? After yesterday," she added at the end softly, letting the concern she'd kept hidden flood to the surface and shine in her enormous brown eyes. "Are you holding up?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah. I'm fine. A little sad," he admitted, glancing down at the ground, but as quickly as the sorrow had appeared in his blue eyes it was gone again and he was smiling a little wryly. "Don't bother worrying about me. It's not the first funeral I've been to."

"I know…" Wondering how she would ever be able to breach such a touchy subject without sounding as awkward as the man she was now speaking with, she rubbed her arms with lotion-soft hands and chewed her lip, looking up to the sky. They were silent for a moment before she finally came up with something. "Mark- are you sure?"

"I'm sure." He nodded and returned to looking through the lens, examining a small tattoo parlor's neon sign from a distance. "I'm more worried about you, Meems. You're younger than me. And I have a feeling you haven't seen quite as many funerals. How are _you_ holding up?"

She gulped and bowed her head, blinking back another sudden bout of tears at the question. Collins had died almost a week ago. She had had her time to grieve, but still the thought of it could sneak up on her at any moment and have her blubbering like a child. Mimi worked hard to make sure her older friends saw her as an adult, but this was something she just couldn't stop.

Her time on Earth was limited, and every time one of her friends died she realized all over again that it was one less person she loved to spend those last few years with.

"Hey. It's alright." When she looked back up, Mark was gazing at her with such heartbreaking empathy that a tear did slip past her defenses and, embarrassed and upset, she hid her mouth behind her hands to disguise the sob that was dangerously close to following. Then he did an amazing thing. Mark switched his camera off, stopped in his tracks and grabbed her arm to stop her as well. She gave him a questioning look but he just smiled crookedly and set his camera down on the pavement carefully, pulling her into a tight embrace. "It's okay to cry you know."

"B-but you- you never cry," she mumbled, the sound of her remarkably childish voice muffled by the fabric of his sweater. He just shook his head- she felt the motion rather than saw it, for her eyes had squeezed shut in a futile attempt to stop more tears from flowing.

"I don't cry in front of people," he emphasized. The filmmaker pulled back just a little and looked her in the face. She opened her watery eyes and waited for him to continue. "Because if I cry the rest of you won't have anyone to hold on to."

Everyone knew this about Mark, but no one had ever said it out loud. Mimi found herself slightly amazed that he knew about it, but of course, this was MARK. Mark seemed to know everything sometimes. Mark was the strongest one out of all of them. A strong urge descended on her then to hug him fiercely, tell him how much she appreciated it, but she found herself paralyzed.

Talking about her own death seemed too much like condemning herself. Talking about anyone else's, as well, seemed almost disrespectful. The topic, once broached, might never close again- and Mimi didn't want to live the rest of her days in sorrow.

"Don't… don't you ever just get sick of it, though? Always being the strong one." Somehow, the question she had been so apprehensive of asking slipped past her lips anyways. To her surprise, Mark actually _laughed_.

"I guess it can be tiring," he nodded, still smiling widely. She wiped her eyes and, apparently having determined that she was fit to continue on their journey, he leaned down to scoop up his camera and something shiny caught his eye. Grinning up at her, he gestured for her to follow his gaze.

It was a tails-up copper penny, glinting in the dying light of the sun. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as he took it into his palm and flipped it over so that Lincoln's image faced upwards.

"Now the next person that finds it will have some luck." Mark gave her a meaningful look. "Sometimes you just have to be there for someone else without asking for anything in return," he said, smiling almost sadly downwards before he straightened up and continued walking. Dumbfounded, Mimi stared down at the penny for a moment longer as all of the pieces fell into place.

Mark was right. Sometime, probably soon, some person was going to be in a horrible mood and they were going to see this penny and pick it up. And maybe a spark of hope would reignite in their hearts… Maybe it would give them just enough strength to get through the day.

"Coming? Roger's waiting," Mark called from up ahead. Startled, Mimi scurried after him, wiping the remaining tears from her face.

"Mark! Slow down!"

She didn't feel bad for Mark anymore. Not if she really thought about it.

Because even if he had to watch all of the people that he loved ascend the staircase to heaven, at least he would know he'd done them some good for them when they were alive. He turned their misfortune into memories that they, and he, would always cherish.

He was the one who flipped the penny.


End file.
